“Very well; as soon as they finish the badges you can help clear the room.”

Dexie cast a backward look at Traverse and saw his amused smile, and it was hard to control her features when his face assumed such a mournful expression directly Fenerty addressed him.

Half an hour later, tables and chairs were set aside, and the sound that came forth from the piano, at Dexie’s bidding, set agoing the feet of the dancers.  She had played through several dances when Guy came up to her side with Ada Chester.

“I have brought someone to take your place, Miss Dexie.  Play a waltz for us, Miss Chester,” and Guy took Dexie from her seat.

The couple made the circuit of the room several times before anyone joined them; it was a pleasure to watch the well-matched pair swaying to the delightful music.

“We seem to have the floor to ourselves,” Dexie said with a smile.

“If they knew the bliss of a perfect waltz, we would be crowded out, Miss Dexie.  I begin to think I never waltzed before; your step is perfect—­what, you are not tired?” as Dexie stopped and led the way back to the piano.

“No, but I will relieve Miss Chester; she is very fond of dancing.”

Dexie did not care to confess how much she had enjoyed the little dance, but she was beginning to think that there was some strange spell in the voice and manner of her partner that drew her very thoughts from her.  She must get away from his presence, so turned to Miss Chester, saying: 

“I can recommend Mr. Traverse as a superb waltzer, Ada, so let me give you the pleasure of a few turns around the room with him to the same music.  Mr. Traverse, do let Miss Chester know for once what waltzing really is,” and she struck the keys and sent them floating from her side.

The evening’s pleasure closed all too quickly, and as the last good-byes were spoken Guy lingered to whisper: 

“I shall call and take you to choir practice in good season, so do not run away before I come for you.  Good-night, Miss Dexie.”

The warm clasp of the hand, and the earnest look in his dark grey eyes, lingered in Dexie’s memory until sleep had put all thoughts aside and mixed the real with the unreal in troubled dreams.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

One bright summer morning, while the dew still glistened like diamonds on grass blades and flower petals, Dexie and her father were to be seen walking quickly in the direction of the depot, and, on arriving there, were surprised to see Mr. Traverse waiting on the platform.

“What, Traverse, are you off this morning too?” said Mr. Sherwood.

“Yes, I have business in Boston; some machinery to order.  And you, Miss Dexie, are you going on a journey as well?”

“Oh, no; I have come to see papa safely on board the train, and to jog his memory about a few trifles I want him to bring me home from the Hub.”